


The Knight in Black

by CountlessWells



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M, The Flash fanfiction, fan fiction, harrisco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:47:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountlessWells/pseuds/CountlessWells
Summary: 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: This is an AU I wrote on account of a writing club that I'm involved in. The theme was medieval. In this fic. You have Harrison Wells, an inventor who escapes during the invasion of his village, along with his terribly wounded daughter Jesse. The Black Knight, a very-well known figure from the Kingdom of Kaerabeth, saves the inventor and his daughter from what could have been either their chances of becoming prisoners of war or a very gruesome death.𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Death of characters𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬: N/A𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧/𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝/𝐀𝐔: AU𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬:3116
Relationships: Cisco Ramon/Earth-2 Harrison "Harry" Wells
Kudos: 10





	The Knight in Black

Black smoke filled the skies, and blood-curdling screams replaced the silence of the evening. A tiny village, just on the outskirts of the kingdom of Kaerabeth was being invaded by an army of knights. Anyone that appeared in sight was struck down immediately. Women and children were shown no mercy. Those that could, fled into the foliage of the trees as the men did their best to hold off the knights that invaded their little town. A young man, in his early 20’s, was directing those that were fleeing from the massacre then his mother approached him.   
“Bartholomew, where are you going?” His mother asked. “We have to leave!”  
“I have to stay and help,” he protested. “I can’t just leave.”  
“Honey, they killed your father, I can’t lose you too,” she said, grabbing his arm.  
“Father’s gone?” He asked. “Mother, I—” Bartholomew’s attention was shifted over to the bell tower. “The bell,” he said. “If I ring the bell, I can alert the troops inside the kingdom, they’ll know we’re in trouble. Stay here, I’ll be back,” he told her before running off.   
“Bartholomew!” She called out after him.   
Bartholomew looked back every so often to make sure she didn’t move from where she stood. He ran and ran until finally he reached the tower. He climbed up the steps, determined that his plan would work. He circled the bell until he found the rope. “Here we go,” he gripped his hands tightly around the well-woven rope. He used his entire body weight to pull down the rope. The second the clapper hit the interior of the bell, a wide smile plastered itself on his face. He did what he could. He walked over to the threshold as the bell continued to rock back and forth behind him. He scanned the ground below him, searching for his mother. Her blue eyes glanced up at him, and she let out a soft sigh. He gave her a nod once spotted, then he saw a knight in silver armor appear behind her, the evening sun reflecting off of the metal. The knight grabbed her by the throat. He took out his dagger and jabbed it into her chest.  
“No!” Barholomew cried from the tower. The knight raised his visor, watching her body hit the ground then looked up to Bartholomew. He lowered his visor then disappeared into the darkness of the forest. Not given any time to react, Bartholomew felt two arrows pierced his chest. His fingers gripped onto the wooden frame, but as the light in his eyes diminished, his body fell forward from the 50-foot tower.   
Meanwhile, the village inventor scurried his way through the dark forest. He tightly held onto the child in his arms, but stopped in his tracks once he heard the bell ring. He looked back towards the village. What was a peaceful place to live, now laid in ruins. It was only a matter of time before the kingdom's troops would arrive, but with the situation at hand, he couldn't wait for help. He just couldn't.   
When he believed he was safe, he made his way to the river bank. Carefully, he made his way down the hill. It wasn’t until he found a place where they could be properly hidden that he laid his daughter down.  
"Father," his daughter cried, holding onto her side, "it hurts."  
"I know, sweetheart," he nodded. He lifted up her shirt to see the damage that was done. She had been struck by one of the knights, and he had no one to blame but himself. "I know it hurts," his lip quivered as he saw the gash along her abdomen, her body covered in blood. There was so much of it, he had no idea how she was still awake. The father pulled out his dagger from his belt and cut off his sleeve and folded it up before using it to apply pressure to the little girl's wound. "It's going to be alright," he said, although he was truly uncertain. A laceration that huge and having already lost so much blood on the way, there was no telling if she was going to survive. He was scared. He held her close as he continued to press the torn up sleeve against her stomach. The little girl rested her head against her father's chest. She could feel the heat radiating off of his body, the heart pounding in his chest.  
He held his daughter all through the night, not leaving her for a moment. He didn't sleep. He made sure she was breathing every second of the night. When her breathing would become labored because of the pain, he would give her a gentle kiss on the forehead.  
When morning came, the first thing the father did was clean up his daughter, then tend to her wound. He wrapped a clean piece of cloth around her waist, discarding the bloody torn up sleeve.   
“Come,” he said, holding his hand out for his daughter.  
“I can do it,” she swatted his hand away. She placed a hand upon her side while she stood up. The father gave her a smile.  
“Independent, just like your mother,” he muttered. “Let’s g—” He was startled when he saw an arrow plunge into the sand just behind his daughter. He turned around, his blue eyes resting on the archer that stood by the trees. The crest on his chest gave the father even more reason to worry. He was from the Cerarwen Kingdom, the same kingdom that sent their knights to invade their village. Another arrow was sent in their direction, this one tearing through the empty spaces of the inventor’s shirt. The father quickly drew his sword, hiding his daughter behind him. Just as the archer reached for another arrow, a sword struck the left side of his neck, cutting more than halfway through. The archer’s blood trickled down his body with speed, staining his skin and clothes. The nearly headless figure dropped to its knees before finally meeting the morning wet grass. Both, father and daughter, stood with their jaws dropped at the sight of their savior. A knight in studded black leather armor. The only thing metal on him was his weapons and the helmet he had upon his head. The knight sat upon his mare, her coat matched the color of her owner’s attire. Everyone across the land had heard of the Black Knight of Kaerabeth, but he was always seen as a myth, a legend. A sign of hope and motivation for the little boys who dream to be knights. He sheathed his sword then shifting his gaze over to the two. The knight took the initiative to approach them. The father took a few steps back as the knight grew closer, holding his daughter closely behind him.  
The knight didn’t lift his visor. He didn’t say a word. He simply glanced down at the two. Though this wasn’t one of the inventor’s greatest days appearance wise, he found the father rather enticing.  
“Father, I think he wants to—”  
“Jesse, hush,” he told her then looked back to the knight as he put his sword away. “Thank you.” The father said, staring up at the knight. “Thank you for helping us.”  
In response, all the knight did was give a nod. His brown eyes stayed hidden behind his visor, but he was quick to pick up on the amount of blood that was on the both of them. It was only on the father’s hands, however, the little girl’s shirt was drenched in it. The knight grabbed the father by the shoulder and moved him to the side.   
“Hey, what are you—” The father watched the knight use his fingers to motion for his daughter to come closer. “Jesse, don’t move,” he ordered. Jesse eyed her father then to the knight. She did as she was asked of by the knight, a whimper leaving her when she took a step forward.   
The knight had seen all he needed to. He turned his attention to the father, then patted on the back of his mare.   
“You want us to come with you?” He asked.  
The knight nodded. The man chewed on his lip, he wasn’t sure if this knight was to be trusted, however, he did just save their lives.   
“Okay,” the father nodded in agreement. He lifted his daughter carefully and placed her onto the back of the horse before taking the knight’s hand and climbing over himself. The knight snapped his reins and the three were off.   
They returned to the kingdom of Kaerabeth. Outside the city walls was a refugee camp that was set up for any of the survivors that lived through that horrible night. Tents were scattered on the surrounding land, soldiers were patrolling through walking in a group of at least six. Everyone’s attention had turned to the three as they passed through.   
“He’s back!” A soldier yelled. “The black knight is back!” He grabbed the ivory horn from his waist and took a deep breath before exhaling, a deep trumpet sound filling the air. Any knight standing within a 150 meter radius turned in the direction of the mare and stood stiff as stone.   
“Wow,” The father looked around in awe, “you must really be something, huh?” He knew of the traditions held within the kingdom, but it was his first time seeing one so grand. The simple presence of one man stopping all the operations of the day.   
The knight waved his hand in the air, telling the fellow soldiers to relax. He shook his head. There were some formalities he simply didn’t agree with, and this was one of them. The women in the area, not even having seen his face, stared at the knight with lustful eyes as the men did so in admiration.   
Instead of taking them to a tent filled with the other villagers, the knight had taken past the city walls, to his own house. His manor was at the bottom of the hill the castle was built upon. It was very large compared to the other houses that filled this part of the city, but the king preferred his best man to be close by. The knight dismounted himself from his beautiful mare. He pet her snout as he held her in place, giving the father time to retrieve his daughter. The inventor raised a brow as his eyes settled on the knight. It could be his eyes deceiving him, but he was sure that the knight was shorter than him.  
“Aren’t you a little short for a knight?” The inventor asked, carrying his daughter in his arms. The knight chuckled under his helmet. Although it was a question commonly asked of him, he had been wondering when the man would begin to ask ridiculous questions, but of course, the knight didn’t respond. Jesse gazed up to her father when he didn’t respond.  
“Maybe he can’t speak?” She said. The knight chuckled softly under his helmet as he held open the door for the two to enter. The father and daughter looked to each other prior to entering the household.   
The house was the complete opposite of what the father thought it was going to be. He thought there would be animal heads and weapons mounted on the walls, possibly a trophy shrine somewhere, but no, there was none of that. If anything, he could add a little more to decorate the house, but overall it was cozy. Most of the flooring in the house was wood, but in the living space it transitioned into nicely trimmed bear fur. The knight pointed to the living space as he walked into the kitchen. He expected there to be at least something that had his name written after upon it, but alas there was nothing. After all this time, making sure his back was turned to them, the knight took off his helmet. His dark curls cascaded over his shoulders. He tied the top half of his hair back before he grabbed the bowl of water he had waiting for him, splashing his face a few times, removing the sweat and dirt from his face. He took a deep breath before he dried his face then retreated upstairs.  
The inventor didn’t hesitate to lay his daughter down onto the couch. His eyes followed the knight go upstairs while he stroked a hand on his daughter’s head. “How does it feel?” He asked her, slowly lifting her shirt to view her bandage. Drenched in blood,she was due for a change.  
“It still hurts, father,” she said, lifting her head to get a better look.  
“You’re going to be alright,” he replied, kissing her forehead.   
Upstairs, the knight listened quietly to their conversation as he removed his leather jacket. He changed his top into a hooded garment that hung freely off of his body, which made the leather pants he was wearing appear much tighter. He pulled down the hood then grabbed a scarf and wrapped it around his face, covering everything below his eyes. Returning downstairs, he washed his hands thoroughly before preparing himself a tray of items and making his way over to the two. Again, the knight grabbed the father by the shoulder and moved him to the side then kneeled down beside the child. The inventor’s ocean eyes locked onto the knight. The change of clothing made him appear less intimidating, but he didn’t appreciate the scarf masking the knight’s face. He wanted to know the face of the man who he was in debt to.  
“Take her hand,” the knight finally spoke. His voice was gentle, but still held its warrant.   
"What are you doing?" The father said, worried as the knight placed the tray beside him. He wasn't going to let some stranger just touch his daughter.  
"Do you want it to get worse?" He responded rhetorically, his voice slightly muffled by the scarf. The knight grabbed the tin box on the tray and removed a spool of catgut made from sheep, and a needle.   
The father's eyes widened. "Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Definitely not," he said, grabbing the knight’s wrist. “I will not have you pierce my daughter’s skin,” he said shaking his head.  
“If I send you out there, you’re going to have a doctor that has most likely touched over a hundred people today,” the knight pointed out, pulling his arm back to his side. “Do you believe that they always remember to wash their hands between patients? The best they could possibly offer is just another reel of wool.”   
“I—”  
“Take her hand,” he repeated. “I will not say the same thing more than twice,” the knight added. The inventor’s jaw clenched. He had no idea if this person knew what they were doing, but he did make a valid point.   
“Will she be okay?” The inventor did as told. He held Jesse’s hand as the younger male used his dagger to carefully cut off the bandages wrapped around her waist, exposing the tender laceration.  
The knight clicked his tongue at the sight of it, “whoever hurt her,” he started as he used a damp cloth to clean the wound, “could have killed her if their weapon pierced any further,” he said. Jesse hissed at the pressure of the fabric against her skin and tightened the grip she had on her father’s hand.  
“Is there anything we could give her for the pain?” The father questioned.  
“Are you willing to let your child drink ale?” The knight asked, his brown eyes meeting the father’s. The inventor’s expression quickly turned sour. “I tease,” he assured the father. “I’ll do my best to not cause her any pain," he added. “Close your eyes,” he told the little girl, placing the rag down.  
“Will she be okay?” The father asked again.   
“We’ll have to see how her wound heals,” The knight responded, he brought a finger to his lips, telling the father to stay quiet as he prepared the needle.   
The inventor watched silently. He was amazed at how delicate and nimble the knight was with his hands. He also couldn’t help but notice how tight the knight’s shirt was around his shoulders and arms. The knight could feel the other’s eyes on him, but he paid him no mind. He needed to finish up with the child. Jesse would whimper as the needle passed through her skin, but even she tried to make sure that her reactions didn’t delay his work.   
After 17 stitches and wrapping her waist in a new layer of bandages, the two males left her to rest. The knight exited the manor from the back door, not even three minutes later, the knight returned with two ice bottles of ale, and a glass full of ice. He placed the glass on the side table by the couch for Jesse when she woke up. Then, he handed one of the bottles of ale to the inventor. Before he could be thanked, the knight walked away and stepped outside onto the porch. The inventor couldn’t think of anything better to do than to follow. The knight leaned against the stony exterior of the manor as he watched the mare roam through the short grass. He pulled his mask back over his nose when he heard the door open. He sighed, all he just wanted to do was have his drink in peace.  
"Is something wrong?" The knight asked, watching the father, who now stood across from him, his tall demeanor blocking the view of his horse.  
"No," he responded, "not at all," he shook his head as he looked down at the bottle in his hands, leaning against the railing of the porch. "I wanted to thank you again."   
“For?” The knight questioned.  
“Saving us," he spoke, "saving my daughter.”  
"No need for thanks, uh—" he paused, realizing he hadn’t asked the other what he wished to be called.  
"Harrison," the older man said, inserting his into the knight’s sentence, his blue eyes meeting the knight's. "My name is Harrison."  
“Well then,” the knight leaned forward, holding a hand out to the other. Harrison didn’t have to think twice about grabbing the knight’s hand, shaking it generously. “Nice to meet you, Harrison.”  
“And you are?” Harrison asked, his blue eyes observing the male. The knight softly sighed. He pulled at the scarf, unveiling the smile he had hidden underneath.   
“You’ll find out,” the knight responded.  
“Oh?” Harrison lifted a brow. “When?" he asked.  
"Soon," the knight responded, his tongue running over his lips before he took a sip of his drink.

  
  



End file.
